The Fake Marriage of Miss Molly Hooper
by Call it Maglc
Summary: "Molly, I'm going to ask you to do me a favor tonight." "A favor? What kind of favor?" "I'm going to need you to pretend to be my wife." Sherlock needs Molly to be his fake wife for an investigation, what could go wrong? Sherlock/Molly Written in III Acts
1. Act I

**_When inspiration hits, write a Fanfiction! This idea has been on my mind for a bit, and I was thinking of including it in my Just Another Day story, but it got too long, and I needed John for this one. So, enjoy! :D_**

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><p>Act 1)<p>

Sherlock walked briskly with his hands in the pockets of his long, black overcoat and blue scarf wrapped around his neck. Normally, the zoo of people would be amusing, to overhear conversation or arguments, and look at the general public. But not today. He was on a mission.

Sherlock was so close to solving the Clyde Breckenridge case that he could almost taste it. A week of investigating, hypothesizing, and eventually observing, and he just needed to confirm that Clyde Breckenridge was not only the murderer of two men, but was also going to murder his girlfriend tonight, taking her money with him and blaming some kind of accident. And Sherlock knew where, in the luxurious home of Mr. Hitcher, co-owner of Giovanni and Hitcher. Clyde and Leonard Giovanni were good friends, and Breckenridge was a trusted employee of his. Giovanni and Hitcher was celebrating their tenth anniversary, and what better way to celebrate than a party?

Sherlock made it to his fake workplace that he had joined just for investigation. He was Sherlock Holmes, Leonard Giovanni's own personal assistant. He brought him coffee, or fetched papers, that sort of nonsense. Sherlock hated it. The good news was that Mr. Giovanni turned out to be quite to social butterfly, and told Sherlock most of what he wanted to know about Clyde Breckenridge, Mr. Giovanni's family friend. The bad news is that Sherlock got everything else as well, about his pet, or what his neighbors were doing, but mostly about his precious wife, Tiffany. He was obsessed with telling Sherlock all about his wife, and it almost made the job not worth it. Giovanni also wanted to know everything about Sherlock, and he had to make up quick on-the-spot lies and stories. As well as being obsessed with his own wife, Giovanni constantly asked about Sherlock's.

Which is how the whole mess started, with Sherlock's talk of a fake wife. Ever since Sherlock had told Giovanni about her, he was obsessed. He didn't know her name, and never asked, strangely enough. But he was always asking what she liked to do, to bring in a picture and whatnot. Of course, Sherlock made things up. His wife worked as a hairdresser, and didn't like her picture taken much, so he had no photos of her on hand and 'accidentally' forgot to bring one every day he asked.

Sherlock climbed up the steps and put on his actor's face as he opened Giovanni's office door. Sitting at a desk directly seven feet away from the door was Mr. Giovanni, in all his bald-headed, pinstriped suit glory. Giovanni smiled at the sight of Sherlock.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes! I'm glad you could make it in this morning!" he said and beckoned Sherlock in.

"Thank you, Mr. Giovanni," Sherlock said, closing the door. All he had to do was get invited to that party Giovanni was holding, and he could wrap up this case and the horrid job. Sherlock plastered a smile on his face. "Is there anything I can get for you, Mr. Giovanni?"

"No, no, nothing right now. In fact, I have something for YOU, Sherlock," he said, jolly as Santa Claus himself. It was nearly unsettling to Sherlock, he seemed almost TOO jolly.

"What is it, Mr. Giovanni?" Sherlock asked.

"There's going to be a sort of party tonight at the Hitcher mansion, and I don't suppose that you'd care to attend?" Giovanni said with a smile. "All staff and faculty is invited tonight for the celebration of ten year's good work."

"Oh, but I'm just your assistant, I don't think that-"

"Nonsense, Mr. Holmes! I insist you attend!"

"Thank you, Mr. Giovanni," Sherlock said with a smile. This one was actually partially genuine, because he had gotten into the party.

"There is, however, a rule. A small regulation, I'm sure you won't mind it," Giovanni smiled. Sherlock was instantly on full alert.

"A... regulation, Mr. Giovanni?" Sherlock asked innocently.

"Yes, just a very small one! I won't let you into the party without your wife, Mr. Holmes!" Giovanni laughed. "But, of course, that will be no problem, right, Mr. Holmes?" Sherlock fought a very strong urge to groan.

"Well, truth be told, Mr. Giovanni, she's a little busy tonight, out for a ladies night, and-"

"I won't have it, no lady wouldn't want to attend this party! I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes, but no wife, no party," Giovanni shrugged. "Maybe it would change your mind if I gave you the rest of the day off? Tiffany is just DYING to meet your wife! Now don't you think that's reasonable?"

"Yes, Mr. Giovanni. Thank you," Sherlock said cheerfully.

"So I can expect you to be there, Mr. Holmes?" Giovanni asked.

"Of course, Mr. Giovanni. Wouldn't miss it for the world!" he faked.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you there, AND your wife, Mr. Holmes," Giovanni laughed. "Go run home, tell your wife, pretty her up and whatnot. Good day, Mr. Holmes!"

"You too, Mr. Giovanni," Sherlock said and walked out of the door, shutting it behind him. When it clicked shut, his smile instantly faded and turned into a scowl. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath and walked out of the building with his hands in his pockets. Now he'd made a promise he couldn't keep. He didn't have a wife, he didn't even have any friends. Especially not _women_ friends. He narrowed his eyes and kept scowling. Reaching the door to the building, Sherlock walked quickly out and began walking down the street back to his home, thinking of some kind of way he could get into that party without a wife.

Sherlock flipped out his phone, and scrolled through his contacts quickly. It was pretty easy, since he didn't have many. Suddenly, he came upon a name he hadn't remembered putting into his phone. Did he really have her number? Sherlock began devising a plan quickly, and the gears in his head beginning to spin around. He sighed, since this was both very risky and could send out all sorts of messages. But he finally decided it was a risk he had to take.

He quickly typed out a message:

**Meet me at Cafe Martins on 122nd at 8:30AM. -SH**

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><p>Molly just about screamed. She didn't, but she placed her hand over her mouth to stifle it. Pauline, Molly's Asian best friend as well as roommate, was bringing two mugs of tea over to the couch and immediately looked over to her friend with a raised eyebrow. "What? You look like you've just seen your face in the mirror again," she teased. Molly just sat there, paralyzed and staring at her phone. "What IS it?"<p>

"Sherlock..." Molly whispered. Pauline's expression softened.

"Oh, my God, what happened? Did something happen to him?" Pauline asked worriedly.

"Oh... my GOD!" Molly suddenly unfroze herself and began laughing. "Oh, my God, I think Sherlock just asked me out!"

Pauline's eyes grew big. "WHAT?"

"Read it for yourself!" Molly squealed and hopped up from the couch, jumping up and down like a rabbit. "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod!"

"'Meet me at Cafe Martins on 122nd at 8:30 AM. -SH'," Pauline read out loud. "Wait, since when did you get Sherlock's number?"

Molly stopped bouncing up and down and blushed sheepishly. "Well... he was in the bathroom, yeah? And I, uh... kind of texted myself on his phone and put my number into his..." Molly bit her lip and giggled. Pauline rolled her eyes.

"You really are desperate," Pauline sighed.

"But aren't you excited for me?" Molly cried out. "I've got a date with Sherlock!"

"Woah, slow down, sister. Think for a second. Has he ever even been remotely romantic towards you?" Pauline asked Molly.

"Well, he... no. Not really, no."

"Then why should he suddenly text you, and ask to go out for a coffee?" Pauline asked, suspicious. Molly shrugged.

"I don't know, but this is it, Pauline! What I've been waiting for! What time is it right now?" Molly asked.

Pauline looked at the clock on her television. "Uh... 8:02."

Molly stood up. "Oh, my goodness! That barely leaves any time for me to get ready! Pauline, can I borrow some heels? I walked over here to your house in sneakers, and I won't show up in _sneakers._"

Pauline sighed. "In my closet. You can wear the silver ones."

"Thank you!" Molly cried, already halfway down the hall. "Tell him I'm on my way!"

Pauline rolled her eyes and started texting Sherlock back on Molly's phone. "I'm going to give her one hell of a best woman speech at their wedding."

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><p>Sherlock impatiently tapped his fingers on the table at Cafe Martins and rechecked the clock on his phone. 8:35. She was late. He sighed and crossed his arms, stopping his little drumming session. Looking out into the cold, wet London street, he wondered if this was a very, very bad idea. There was a little chime from the bell over the door and Sherlock turned around instantly. There stood Molly Hooper, trying to bring her umbrella down in the doorway. She was wearing an unseasonal pair of tall, silver heels with her jeans and light pink jacket. She seemed to very fond of the color light pink, since she was always wearing it. She was also wearing a very vibrant shade of pink lipstick. She closed the umbrella finally and looked around the little cafe, spotting Sherlock.<p>

Molly's heart began pounding as she spotted Sherlock. She really hoped her hair looked okay as she smiled and waved to him excitedly. Molly's heels clicked all the way over to the table, and she tried to keep herself as balanced as possible. She shrieked a little and nearly lost her balance, flailing her arms a bit. She put her hands onto the table to keep herself from toppling over and nervously laughed.

"Sorry, I'm a little clumsy with heels on," she blushed. She took the seat opposite him and was quiet. She just smiled. She stared at his pale, tall face that matched the rest of him perfectly. She looked at the mass of dark curls that were set perfectly atop his head, and his gorgeous ice blue eyes. Molly had no doubt this was possibly the best day of her life.

"I'm going to cut it to the chase. Molly, have you ever acted before?" Sherlock asked, breaking Molly's perfect silence.

"Well, um, I was in my high school play, but I was just a chorus role. One of the villagers, we were doing Cinderella," Molly said, wondering if that's what couples asked each other on first dates.

"Do you at least know how to act, then?" Sherlock asked, ignoring the starry look in her eyes.

"Yes, I suppo-"

"Good. Molly, I'm going to ask you to do me a favor tonight."

Molly's heart started pounding again. "A favor? What kind of favor?"

"It might involve danger," Sherlock said without smiling. Molly bit her lip.

"Well, I don't know..."

"Molly, have I ever told you that you look stunning in light pink?" Sherlock said, running a gloved finger across her jawline. Molly's heart started racing at about a million miles an hour and she shivered. Molly knew she was being manipulated, she knew it. But she loved it.

"W-What do you need?" she shakily asked, and Sherlock removed his hand from her face, unwillingly on Molly's part.

"Yes. I'm going to need you to pretend to be my wife."

Molly died. Right there, in that spot. She had died and gone to heaven. She was pretty sure if she wasn't sitting down, she might have fainted. "Y-your wife?" she squeaked, biting her lip.

"Don't get too excited, it's only for one night. Now, listen. We're going to a party tonight at the Hitcher Mansion to celebrate the ten year anniversary of Giovanni and Hitcher. I'm only going for investigation, and to potentially stop a murder, so don't be surprised if the party is suddenly cut short. Tonight you'll be known as Mrs. Molly Holmes-"

Molly squeaked. Sherlock cut off in mid-sentence and looked over to Molly. Molly blushed up a storm. "Um, sorry, continue on, please."

"Right... well, you'll be known as Mrs. Holmes, a hairdresser. Do you know a thing about hairdressing?"

"Not at all."

"Then don't talk about it much. All you have to do is be storyteller for Giovanni and his wife, and Mr. Hitcher if he shows up. They are apparently beyond eager to hear about us, and you'll easily have them wrapped up in your lies. Easy enough, I trust?" Sherlock asked. Molly had her elbows on the table with her head resting on her hands as she gazed dreamily up at Sherlock.

"Hm...? Oh, yes, very easy!" she popped up suddenly, bringing her head back up. "I do have one question, however." Sherlock didn't talk, so she continued on. "What sort of dress should I wear?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "You know, like what kind of bow-tie are you wearing? So we can color coordinate."

"It doesn't matter," Sherlock said, wondering if there was a dumber question she could ask out of anything. "They won't care."

"Then... what do you want me to wear?" Molly hesitated. Sherlock looked over, and raised an eyebrow. Molly looked down to the table. "Okay, I guess that answers that."

"Right, I'll bring a cab around to the hospital at about ten tonight, from there, we'll drive to the mansion, we walk in together, you begin spinning your little web of stories, and I'll sneak off to go fix everything. You won't have to do much, just keep our cover up for a little bit," Sherlock explained, standing up. "I suppose I'll see you tonight, then."

"I-I suppose so," Molly said, standing up as well. She smiled up at Sherlock and slowly held her arms out, grinning awkwardly. "Hug?"

Sherlock stared at her for a moment. "Um, no, I'll pass. See you tonight," he said briefly, and then walked off through the door, the little bell jingling as he passed through. A little piece of Molly's heart sank, but not enough to ruin her mood. NOTHING could ruin her mood, not after she had just asked to be Sherlock's wife! Granted, it was a fake marriage, but it was still a match! Molly whipped her phone out and dialed Pauline's number.

"Pauline? You'll never believe what just happened!"

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><p>John Watson was sitting at his table, enjoying the Saturday morning paper over a cup of coffee (and enjoying the silence due to the mysterious disappearance of his roommate and friend, Sherlock Holmes) when he was startled by the door bursting open. He nearly jumped a foot in the air, and spilled a bit of his coffee on the table. He whipped around, wondering what on earth could have burst into his room, and almost unpleasantly spotted Sherlock tossing himself face-first into the couch and groaning. John sighed and turned back to his paper. "I knew it was too good to be true, your absence. Where were you all morning, anyways? It was odd waking up and not smelling smoke, or being shot at."<p>

"I think I just made a very big mistake," Sherlock groaned, voice muffled by the pillow. John didn't give him the honors of a glance.

"And what would that be?" John asked, uninterestedly taking a sip of his coffee.

Sherlock turned away from the pillow and faced outwardly. "I think I just asked Molly Hooper out."

John spit coffee all over the table and turned around with a look of disbelief on his face. "WHAT?"

Sherlock groaned again and shoved the pillow on top of his head. "That's fantastic!" John laughed after a moment. "I never knew you actually fancied the girl!"

"I don't," Sherlock grumbled. "I don't fancy anyone."

"Then why did you ask her out?"

"I didn't REALLY ask her out," Sherlock turned over and emphasized with his hands, waving them in the air. "It's for an investigation, she-"

John interrupted him. "Oh, God. You know how much she likes you, Sherlock? She's going to go simply _ballistic_ when it's over, and she learns that you only fake dated her." Sherlock was silent. John sighed. "Well, what is this investigation, then?"

"Simple, really. If I can get into the Giovanni and Hitcher's tenth anniversary party, I can solve multiple murders as well as prevent one. But my fake identification states that I have a wife, and I can't attend the party without a-" Sherlock began, and John moaned.

"Oh, please tell me you didn't ask Molly to be your fake wife," John groaned, hand on his forehead. Sherlock was silent. "Isn't there anyone else you could've asked who's, you know, less sensitive?"

Sherlock cracked a small smile. "Well, I would have asked you, but I supposed that would be awkward for all of us." John rolled his eyes.

"What would Mrs. Hudson think if she heard you say that?" John said. "But don't think you're going to drag me into this, you're on your own for this one."

"You're going to leave me alone with Molly Hooper, who thinks that I might have a thing for her?" Sherlock asked, irritated that John wouldn't come with them to the party.

"Well, maybe if I leave you two alone tonight, maybe you will develop a 'thing' for her," John said, turning his attention back to the paper. "Hey, did you hear that the Prime Minister's cat just had kittens? Says they were born just yesterday."

"John, you've got to come help!" Sherlock argued, sitting up on the couch.

"Oh, aren't they adorable!"

"Damn it, John! You don't even like kittens!" Sherlock said, getting up and snatching the paper from John and tossing it on the floor. John frowned.

"I was reading that!" he argued.

"You're going tonight!"

"No, and that's final!" John said. "I've got a date with Sarah, anyways. I can't go off prancing around with you tonight at some party. You'll have to make do with Molly."

Sherlock growled. "Fine. If that's your final decision." Sherlock stomped out through the door, and slammed the door shut. John could hear each individual stomp down the stairs. He rolled his eyes and picked the paper back up. The door opened again, and John turned towards it. There stood little old Mrs. Hudson.

"What the hell was all that?" she asked.

"Princess Sherlock didn't get her way, again." John smiled. "God help his soul tonight. I'd rather have a million murderers after me than an obsessed Molly Hooper fake married to me any day."

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><p><strong><em>By the way, I'm writing it in three acts, in case you were wondering. And if you were wondering why it's written in acts, it's because I'm an actress (hence the Pen Name Aktress...) and writing it in acts was the first thing that came to mind. :P<em>**

**_(I own nothing but this plot idea and Pauline. And even if I _could_ make money off this, I couldn't. So there.)_**

**_Best Wishes,_**

**_Aktress._**


	2. Act II

Act 2)

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><p>It was about five minutes until eight, and Molly eagerly grinned on the curb. She was standing outside of St. Barts in a light pink dress, her favorite color. She remembered Sherlock saying she looked 'Stunning in light pink'. He would love her in this dress. It came down about to her knees and had a thin, see-through layer on the top, decorated with sparkles. It had two thin straps that held it up properly. Molly had been saving this dress for a rainy day (or a cold one, because she was shivering in a pair of borrowed pink heels from Pauline.) and tonight was the most fantastic night to wear it. Her hair wasn't up in her normal side pony, she had gotten Pauline to curl her hair for her. Molly had sparkling pink eyeshadow on, and, of course, a bit of light pink lipstick. When she looked in the mirror, she barely looked like herself anymore. She wondered if Sherlock would think she was pretty, because that's really all that mattered.<p>

A cab pulled up to the side of the road, and Molly's heart started pounding. The cab came up to a halt, and Sherlock stepped out. Molly almost gasped. He was wearing a black tuxedo, with a dark blue bow-tie to replace his normal scarf. His hair was exactly the same as always, thick, dark, and curly, the way Molly loved it. He looked at her with his ice blue eyes. "Hello, Molly."

"You look... gorgeous," Molly blushed.

"I know," Sherlock said, pulling out a little ring box and handing it to Molly. Heart racing, she took it from his hands. They were cold, and Molly shivered, but not from the iciness of his hands. Because she had actually _touched_ his hands. "Here, slip this onto your ring finger, I've got an identical one. That way it appears we're married." Molly's heart still leaped whenever he said that. Married. Molly opened the ring box. It was a gold ring with three little diamonds on the top. It looked expensive, Sherlock had bought her an_ expensive_ring! She nearly squealed again.

"Oh, dear. This looks expensive," she said, amazed, turning it over in the dim light.

"I didn't buy it, I... borrowed it," Sherlock said, stepping back into the cab. Molly followed him, confused.

"Borrowed it? From who?"

"George and Kassandra Smith. They won't miss them. They won't be buried for a week or so, anyways," Sherlock said, telling the cabbie to go to the mansion where the party was held. Molly's face flushed pale.

"You mean the couple that just came in to the morgue today?"

Sherlock smirked. "That's the one." Molly felt like she might be sick. But, it was from Sherlock, after all, so she put it on and tried pretending it was a real wedding ring, and it didn't belong to a dead woman.

The two pulled up to the Hitcher estate in about ten minutes time. They didn't talk, but multiple times, Molly had tried to hold Sherlock's hand. Each try was unsuccessful, to say the least. She also kept fantasizing about how tonight would be. There would be a grand dancing room, a ballroom. There would be couples everywhere, dancing. Then, Sherlock would take Molly's hand, and a new song would come on. She hadn't quite figured the song out, yet, but she'd know what it was when she heard it. Sherlock would take her by the hand, and smiling, lead her out to the center of the ballroom. A spotlight would shine down on the two, and they would dance through the whole song, staring into each other's eyes. Then, suddenly, before the end of the song, at the climax of the whole moment, Sherlock would bend, dipping Molly down. Her heart would be racing, and he would give her a reassuring smile before bending down, touching his pale lips-

"Molly!" Sherlock said, waking Molly up from her romantic daydream. They were there. Molly shook her head, waking herself up and scooting her way out of the cab. Sherlock closed the door behind her and the cab drove away. Molly looked up to Sherlock who wasn't as tall when she had her heels on, but still tall. Sherlock grabbed her hand and Molly squeaked a little with surprise. She felt her heart leap and she had to bite her lip to sustain a giggle. "Now, remember, Molly," Sherlock said as they began walking, hands still intertwined. "All you have to do is entertain them with fake stories. Make no mention of the real Molly or the real me. Just make things up. And remember, this is only a fake marriage."

Molly felt a little bit sad whenever she was pulled back to the harsh reality that their marriage was only a fake one, but swore to herself that NOTHING could ruin tonight. "Yeah," she squeaked, still not able to talk normally. Sherlock didn't even glance at her.

They walked in the doors of the grand mansion, and there was a huge, marble staircase directly to the left. Molly looked all around in awe. The whole place was gorgeous! This whole night was fantastically unreal. People in fancy gowns and tuxedos walked past, engrossed in all their own conversations. The two made their way to a side of the party, around the wall where only a few people hung about. Sherlock let go of Molly's hand, much to her unwillingness, and bent down to whisper to her. "Okay, all we need to do is find Giovanni and I'll let you entertain him while I sneak off. He's a big man, you can't miss-"

"Sherlock! Is that you?" asked a laughing voice. But it wasn't Giovanni, it was a woman. Molly looked up and saw a woman with dark brown hair up in a bun, and a plain green dress. If she hadn't made a point of walking up, Molly would've never even acknowledged her in the crowd, she was so plain-looking. Sherlock turned around, and assumed actor's position again.

"Alex! So wonderful to see you!" he said with a strange smile that Molly had rarely seen before. It made her want to smile too, and she did. Sherlock placed his arm around Molly's shoulder and she froze, her heart beginning to race. "Alex, I'd like you to meet my wife, Molly."

"Hi," Molly squeaked.

Alex smiled. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Holmes. I work with your husband. I'm Alex M, IT,"

"I've got a friend who's in IT," Molly commented, not really knowing what else to say.

"Tell your friend to get out of it as soon as they can," Alex groaned, then laughed. "Sherlock is very nice, always saying hi to us. You sure picked a fantastic man to marry." Molly blushed. "Hey, did you two hear about the Prime Minister? He's got kittens now! Think it'll have any effect on his law-making abilities?"

"Why... would kittens change that?" Molly asked slowly. Alex shrugged.

"Have you two gotten your pictures taken yet?"

"P-Pictures?" Molly asked.

"Yeah, it's so adorable! They take them just like prom, how original, right?" Alex scoffed. "But still, my boyfriend Pete and I already got ours done. Why don't you head on over there?"

"Yea-"

"Oh, I don't think so, Molly hates getting her picture taken," Sherlock interrupted Molly. Molly shut her mouth. Alex raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I don't think so," Alex rolled her eyes and grabbed hold of Sherlock's arm, dragging him towards where pictures were being taken. Molly followed, secretly happy that this Alex M. woman was making them take pictures. Then Molly would have actual documentation that that night had really happened.

They walked up to a traditional school-picture type photo studio. There was an man sitting there, half asleep and wearing a very informal baseball cap and jeans. "Excuse me, but my friends want to get their picture taken. Hello? Hello? HEY! WAKE UP!" Alex yelled and Molly cringed. She wasn't so sure she'd like to be on this Alex girl's bad side.

The man woke with a start. "Maria!" he shouted, then looked around and sighed. "Oh, I'm still here. You all want your picture taken?"

"Only these two," Alex said, shoving Sherlock and Molly by the backdrop, a big 'Giovanni and Hitcher' logo. "C'mon Sherlock, put your arm over her shoulder!" Molly wished that Alex would shut up, but was secretly glad that she didn't. "This is for Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, by the way, put that on the picture."

Sherlock put his arm around Molly and smiled for just the split second when their picture was taken, then pulled his arm away and walked away from the backdrop. Molly's shoulder tingled where he had placed his arm and she giggled. "Your picture will be ready in 20-30 minutes enjoy the rest of the party," the man said quickly.

"Thanks!" Alex said. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it Sherlock?" Alex said as the three walked away.

"I never said it wa-" he began, but Alex pointed to the entrance.

"Hey! The Paulsons are here! I've gotta go say hi to them, but I'll catch up with you later! Bye, Sherlock, Molly!" Alex raced off, running in her high heels to the poor, unsuspecting couple.

"Well, she's a bit... energetic," Molly commented.

"You should see her after her coffee break," Sherlock mumbled.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes! So very glad to see you here tonight!" came a voice from behind them. They both turned around, and there stood Mr. Giovanni. Mr. Giovanni laughed, shaking Sherlock's hand vigorously. Sherlock let go of Molly's hand, much to her reluctance, and began his acting.

"Same to you, wonderful party," Sherlock said, smiling. Molly had never seen him so happy before. He looked even more gorgeous when he smiled. The man looked at Molly next with an even bigger grin.

"And this must be Mrs. Holmes! How very nice to meet you!" Mr. Giovanni said, removing his hand from Sherlock's and began shaking Molly's. "I'm Mr. Giovanni, your husband's employer."

"Yeah," she squeaked, then cleared her throat. "H-hi, I'm Molly. Molly Hoo- Holmes," she quickly corrected herself and grinned.

"Molly, what a lovely name! Your husband talks about you constantly, he must love you very much," Mr. Giovanni, his plump red face grinning. Molly blushed, glancing over to Sherlock, who was looking away from her.

"Yes, yes, I believe he does," she nearly giggled. Sherlock rolled his eyes, unknown to Mr. Giovanni and Molly.

"Sorry to interrupt, but is Clyde here tonight, Mr. Giovanni?" Sherlock asked. Mr. Giovanni turned towards him with raised eyebrows.

"Breckenridge? I didn't know you knew him!"

"Yes, we were friends a while back, I heard a rumor or two he'd be around at the party tonight," Sherlock explained.

"Yes, he should be here tonight, let me look around." Mr. Giovanni turned around and laughed. "Ah, my beautiful wife, Tiffany!" Molly looked over to where Mr. Giovanni was looking. A middle-aged woman was walking over, about the same age as Giovanni, a kind smile on her face and wearing a simple blue gown that looked nice against her slightly tan skin and grey bobbed haircut. Grinning, she walked over to the group.

"Ah, Leonard, I've finally found you again," she smiled, her husband leaning down and giving her a quick peck on the lips. She turned, looking at Molly and gasping. "Well, don't you look just stunning!" the woman extended her hand to Molly and shook it with just as much energy as her husband. "Tiffany Giovanni."

"Molly Holmes," Molly still grinned whenever she added 'Holmes' to the end of her name. "What a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, so you must be the famous Mr. and Mrs. Sherlock Holmes," Mrs. Giovanni said, shaking Sherlock's hand next. "Leonard talks about you two constantly! You'd think he's obsessed with the two of you!" Mrs. Giovanni began laughing, and her husband joined in. Molly gave Sherlock an awkward look, slightly unnerved by the happiness of the couple. Sherlock never left character, and just smiled at her, causing Molly to blush a bit. "So how did you two meet?"

Molly froze up. How did they meet? She was completely unprepared for the question! For any question, really. She had been too busy all day fantasizing about how magical tonight would be. "Uh... we, um... it was at a party, actually," Molly said slowly, making things up.

"Yes, a party, about three years ago. I asked her if she wanted to dance, and the rest is history," Sherlock added, hoping to stop the conversation as quickly as possible. "You don't suppose one of you two could point me in the direction of your bathroom?"

"Yes, down the hallway and to the left," Mrs. Giovanni said sweetly.

"Thank you," Sherlock said, and began to walk away from the group, when Mr. Giovanni stuck out his arm to keep him from moving forward.

"Aren't you at least going to kiss your wife before you leave?" Mr. Giovanni said with a twinkle in his eye. Molly's face turned bright red and she felt it burning. Sherlock smiled a fake grin to him.

"I'll only be a moment, she already knows how much I love her," Sherlock said, trying to get through. Mr. Giovanni wouldn't allow him.

"If it's not such a big deal, than just kiss her goodbye," Tiffany commented, with a nudge to her husband. Sherlock observed it, as well as the mysterious twinkle in their eyes, as if they were just causing mischief. What was up with them? Molly, however, was still tomato red, and biting her lip. She didn't notice anything except for the fact that Sherlock turned towards her, with a small bit of reluctance, and started moving closer to her. _Oh my, God. He's going to kiss me!_Molly's head screamed. She closed her eyes and puckered her lips, heart beating at ten million miles an hour.

But it wasn't the big, exciting, firework popping kiss she'd expected. It was a quick little peck. And not even on the lips. It was on the forehead. She opened her eyes, a little disappointed, and watched him walk away with his back turned towards her. Molly's heart sank. Well, what was she expecting, anyways? It was a fake marriage, not a real one. Plus, this was hardly the place to have a first kiss, in front of so many people she didn't know. But she was still disappointed. Mrs. Giovanni must have seen the slightly sad expression on her face, because she cooed and took Molly's hand.

"Oh, Molly, sweetheart, is something the matter?"

"N-no, everything is perfect," Molly fake grinned as best she could. Mrs. Giovanni wouldn't take it.

"Come, maybe telling a few stories about you two would make you feel better. Why don't you come into the kitchen and we can make some tea, then head someplace less loud?" she said, leading Molly toward the kitchen with a wink to her husband. Her husband returned it and walked over towards a hallway, disappearing down it.

"Oh, that's very kind of you, but don't you have a party to tend to?" Molly said, walking down a hallway, not noticing that they had already passed the kitchen.

"Nonsense, Leonard will take care of that," she said.

Molly smiled as they rounded the corner, leading into an empty hallway with a door to the side. "Thank you, Mrs. Giovanni, you are very- MMFFF!" Suddenly, Mrs. Giovanni clasped a hand over her mouth and Molly's eyes got huge and startled. Molly tried prying Mrs. Giovanni's hands away from her mouth, but Mrs. Giovanni was strong, and dragged Molly into the empty room. She smiled.

"Please, call me Tiffany," she cooed before closing the door. No one was close enough to hear Molly screaming for help.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Hey, all of my fellow readers! I have just a few comments for you all today. Firstly, thank you all so much so subscribingcommenting/reading this story. It makes me feel good inside to know that this is my most alerted story: EVER. So thank you all! It's your reviews and subscriptions that keep the creative process flowing! Second matter of business: __Does anyone here have a Deviantart account? Anyone who does, I've just made a Sherlolly club (ya' know, Sherlock and Molly morphed together? Cheesy? Yes. Unoriginal? Yes. Do I like it? YES.) and I need members! So if any of you are members, I encourage you to search Sherlolly, then click on my story. The club is listed on there, and join it! It means a lot to me! :) Until next time!_**

**_Best Wishes,_**

**_Aktress._**


	3. Act III

**_Act 3)_**

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><p>Sherlock wandered down the hallway, knowing that Clyde Breckenridge and his girlfriend would be somewhere away from the rest of the party. From what he had gathered, Sherlock knew that Breckenridge had already murdered two men, coworkers of his, for their possessions, and had blamed it on suicide or an accident, setting it up so it looked believable. But Sherlock saw right through it. One man had bullet through his brain, and the other had been strangled by his pet snake. Each plan had a flaw or two in it, like the fact that there were two minuscule bite marks from the snake, right below the man's hairline. Almost impossible if he wasn't looking for it. But Sherlock knew that the snake had bit him before settling around the dead man's neck. The man had owned the snake for five years, and it had been perfectly harmless. Only some kind of thing angering the snake could have caused it to bite his master.<p>

He also knew that his girlfriend, Kelsey Jones, a waitress, knew about these murders. She had just discovered them yesterday, Sherlock found out, and Clyde couldn't take any chances. He was going to kill her tonight, but when and where was still a bit fuzzy. He knew it would be away from the crowd, but it could happen at any time. Sherlock looked around for any sights or noises. They could be anywhere...

Suddenly, Sherlock felt a blow to the back of his head. He grunted and his hand rushed to the injury. He whipped around and saw a man with light, sandy hair dressed in a formal suit and holding a knife. The man held the knife up to Sherlock's face. "Come with me," the man growled. Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"And why would I do that?" he asked.

"Because if you don't," the man smiled. "I'll stab you, right here and now." Sherlock sighed.

"Oh, no. Whatever shall I do?" Sherlock said sarcastically. "Like I've never heard that one before."

"Fine, then I'll cut the rope hanging the chandelier up in the loft, and it'll come crashing down on some of the most aristocratic and rich people in London," the man grinned. Sherlock was silent for a moment.

"Where is Kelsey Jones? You haven't already killed her?" Sherlock asked, and Clyde Breckenridge's eyebrows shot up.

"How do you know about Kelsey?" he hissed.

"Just take me to your leader," Sherlock said, crossing his arms. The man rolled his eyes like he was talking to an immature child, which half the time Sherlock did act a bit immature.

"Come with me," he said, prodding Sherlock's back with the knife so he walked and wouldn't try escaping. It's not like Sherlock was trying to get away, he was headed for the mass control center, the brain of the operation. Sherlock was quick to figure out that Breckenridge must not be the man behind the murders, he would have just killed him there. No, there must have been another person working as well. But why? They were just simple murders, carelessly committed just for the sake of stealing their valuables. Having more than one murderer would be very odd.

Breckenridge led Sherlock down the hall without being seen by the party-goers who were laughing just a hallway away. They arrived at a normal-looking door, and Breckenridge reached to open it with the knife still threateningly held to Sherlock's back. The door swung open and Breckenridge shoved Sherlock in. Keeping his balance coolly, Sherlock strolled in like everything was normal.

"So, who's the 'mastermind' behind this plot?" Sherlock asked the room, turning around in the darkness of the room. "I must say, I'm a bit disappointed. How many people does it take to carry out two murders?" Breckenridge shut the door and the whole room was engulfed in darkness.

"Mr. Holmes, what a pleasure having you here," purred a female's voice. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, though no one could see it.

"Mrs. Giovanni, I hardly suspected you. Kudos for that, but let's just cut to the chase. How are you involved in this business?" Sherlock replied.

"I'm their leading operator," she said back, her voice closer now.

"Yes, but what are you after? Two murders, each robbed for their valuables doesn't seem like any need for a lead operator, there's more," Sherlock prompted.

"Yes, there's more. You see, my husband's partner, Franklin Hitcher, had come across a large, precious stone. His family and him are gone vacationing for a whole month, and have entrusted the stone to one of their employees, but he wouldn't tell my husband who. A stone that large would be fabulous to get our hands on, so through trial and error we will find that stone," Mrs. Giovanni explained.

"So you held a party, inviting all the workers, even me. You'll lock the doors and kill everyone, then search for the stone. Problem is, it is most unlikely that they would carry the stone with them to the party. And even if they did, wouldn't it be suspicious if suddenly all the employees of Giovanni and Hitcher went missing? Not to mention that your husband is a respectable man, and something like this could ruin him, if word got out," Sherlock retorted back. Mrs. Giovanni was silent.

"Well... with a jewel like that, we wouldn't need to keep up the business!" she argued back.

"A stone as big as you make it sound would be highly advertised if lost. If you ever tried to sell it, people would be suspicious." Silence again. "Looks like your little plan isn't working out as lovely as you thought it might, huh?"

Something suddenly grabbed hold of Sherlock's leg and he flinched, kicking to remove whatever it was. "May I ask who or what has my leg?" he asked, still kicking. But the hand stayed there. Sherlock felt something cold, now, like metal, attaching itself, and then heard a click. The hand let go, and Sherlock tried to move, but found he was attached to something.

The lights flashed on suddenly, and Sherlock winced a little at the sudden brightness. He took a quick survey around the room. It was just a normal bedroom, nothing fancy or odd about it. Mr. Giovanni was sitting on the bed, a pistol resting on his lap. Mrs. Giovanni was up, a murderous look upon her face that Sherlock had bashed her plan so quickly. Breckenridge was still by the door. And the fact that a woman with dark skin and Molly were linked up to a post of the bed by ball and chain around their ankles right next to Sherlock. They even had a handkerchief stuck in their mouths like traditional kidnaps. Sherlock nearly laughed.

"You're not going to ruin our plans tonight," Mrs. Giovanni growled. "So we're keeping you three chained up in here until we can properly dispose of you." Sherlock raised his hand like a child might in school. With a raised eyebrow, Mrs. Giovanni slowly called on him. "Yes... Mr. Holmes?"

"Quick question, if Mr. Hitcher will be gone for a month, how are you having the party here?" Sherlock asked.

"Mr. Hitcher trusts us enough to leave us with an extra house key, but not enough to tell us where the jewel is," Mrs. Giovanni frowned. "Any other questions?"

"Yes actually. I suspect that just going in and threatening these aristocrats and employees with guns isn't just your plan. Otherwise, word would get out from people, and why else would you not kill us right on the spot?" Sherlock asked.

Mrs. Giovanni cracked a smile. "You are a smart one, aren't you? Yes, after we get the jewel, we're going to bomb the house to the ground. That way, there's no snitches." The dark skinned woman got her hands free and pulled the cloth down around her mouth.

"Clyde! What are you doing? This isn't like you!" she cried out, tears glistening in her eyes. "This isn't like you!" Molly, her heart beating quickly ever since she had first been kidnapped, felt pity for the woman, Kelsey Jones, standing beside her. She looked over to Clyde, Kelsey's boyfriend. She thought she saw something in his eyes, but he had a cold, hard look on his face and didn't utter a word.

"Shut up, or I'll shoot you on the spot!" Mrs. Giovanni hissed. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Now, quiet, the lot of you, and good riddance." The three schemers exited the door with a loud slam, and the woman began crying.

Molly successfully untied her own hands and tore the tie around her mouth off. "Kelsey, it's going to be okay," she tried soothing, although her heart was telling her to start screaming and crying too.

"I don't even know you!" the lady screamed and collapsed into a pile. Molly felt like doing the same. Instead, she turned to Sherlock.

"A fine mess you've gotten us into," Sherlock said to Molly. A tear ran down her eye.

"We're going to die here," she whispered. "We're going to be blasted into smithereens, and there's nothing we can do about it!"

Sherlock sighed. "Well, there is always-"

"So many things I've never tried before, so many things I will never do..." Molly interrupted, glancing up to Sherlock. Did she dare? She was going to die anyways, it wasn't like she ever had a future or anything that could embarrass her anymore... Sherlock reached into his pocket, resting his hand on a small pick he kept with him so that he could pick the lock open and could escape and 'save the day'. It wasn't anything more heart-thudding than he'd ever done.

"I've got a pick here, so we can-" he began.

Molly didn't let him finish his sentence, and instead grabbed hold of the sides of his head, clinging on and onto his dark hair. She couldn't get on tiptoe, since she was already in heels, but brought Sherlock's head down a little bit and closed her eyes, shoving her lips right onto his.

Sherlock grunted in surprise, his eyes wide open as Molly all but attacked him. He felt Molly's hands grabbing onto his face, and to try and get away would be impossible. Truth be told, out of all the things Sherlock had done in his life, all his victories and losses, he had never actually kissed a girl before. This was a first for him, and he had never expected this place to be where it was done. But Molly's sudden clinging to him in desperation had shattered that. His eyes were wide open the whole time, in shock and the fact that he didn't know the staring wasn't polite, he'd never known that.

Molly, on the other hand, was having the best moment of her short life. She had kissed people before, what 31 year old young woman hadn't? But this, THIS was what she had waited for. She had known Sherlock by name for over a year, and every day had longed for this. She was going to die in a few minutes, but she had won. She could die happy, knowing she had just kissed Sherlock Holmes. The kiss wasn't too intimate, it was just a short, dry kiss that lasted about five seconds tops, even though it seemed like forever for them both.

Molly finally let go of Sherlock's face and unattached herself, breathing hard. She didn't dare look up at Sherlock, instead looking down at the floor, and thought her body might explode because her heart was beating so quickly. She breathed heavily and replayed the moment in her head. Oh, GOD, she had just kissed him! What would he think of her now? In fact, Sherlock was still stunned when she let go. He looked at her figure, breathing heavier than normal, but not nearly as much as Molly. Sherlock was for once in his life confused. He didn't like women, or men, for that matter. He was thirty-five years old and had barely ever given a second thought to romance. He only martial relationship was to his work, not to other human beings. But Molly... little, quiet Molly, had just worked up enough courage to kiss him. And Sherlock was confused, because he thought he might have liked it...

Nonetheless, he shook his head. There were more important matters at stake. "Well, like I was saying-"

"I love you!" Molly looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "I've waited so long to tell you that! We're going to die now, so I've got nothing to loose! I've loved you ever since I first talked to you, when you first came into St. Barts. I only started to date Jim because he was at least kind to me, but even that was an act! Plus, I might have wanted to make you jealous, but that wasn't the main goal at first! When he turned out to only use me to get to you, I was heartbroken! And ever since, my longing for you to even talk to me every day has gotten greater! Every time you speak to me, butterflies flutter in my stomach. I'm angry because now that you know, we're both going to be dead! When you asked me to be your fake wife, I knew something was going to happen! Something big! And it did, I worked up enough courage to kiss you, but it was all for nothing. I can also see that you've never had any real interest in me, my whole time I've just been wasting..." Molly trailed off.

Sherlock was silent, not knowing what to say to her confession. "Actually... I can pick the lock... we can get away from here," Sherlock said slowly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the lock pick. Molly's face grew very pale, very quickly.

"You mean.. we can get out?" she squeaked, realising she'd now have to live with the fact that she still had to work in the hospital, and even worse, had to see Sherlock on most days. She was going to die of embarrassment! "You mean we could've gotten out this whole time?"

"Yes, if you'd let me explain and had not... distracted the both of us," he said, bending down and picking his own lock. Molly almost felt like she'd rather stay here and get blasted than go back. His lock open, and he began working on Molly's.

"If I'd known, I wouldn't have..." Molly whispered, almost to herself. Sherlock smirked almost self consciously, and Molly didn't see it.

"Well, now I know, and you don't have to keep hinting it to me," Sherlock said, undoing her lock and started working on the other woman, Kelsey's. Molly stepped out of it and wobbled over to the door, legs still shaky after her daring display. Her lips still tingled, and she thought that at least she could treasure the moment for the rest of her life. In her old age, she could smile and remember that one time when she kissed Sherlock Holmes, even if she never saw him after tonight.

Sherlock finished up with Kelsey's lock and stood up. "Come on, get up," he said. The woman didn't move. "Miss Jones, you have to get up, this place is going to-"

"Leave me alone, I'd rather die!" Kelsey screeched. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. At least Molly wasn't like this girl, who would rather just stop fighting and die after breaking up with her boyfriend like that. Jim Moriarty was the most evil fiend, and when he disappeared suddenly, she had only been quiet for a few days. Sherlock supposed he didn't have the world's worst admirer. Sherlock stood up.

"If you change your mind, run as quickly as you can out the back door, which is down two hallways, to the left, and directly after the third door," Sherlock said, racing out of the room. "Come on, Molly." Molly's heart jumped a little bit, even though it was beating slower than ever. He wanted her to come along. Whether it was because he had actually started caring or only cared that he got a living human out of that room, she wasn't sure, but he still wanted her to come with him.

Molly followed him as they ran out the door and down the hallway. "What are you going to do?" she yelled as they ran, although running in her heels was a bit tough.

"I've always got a revolver on me, even in this ridiculous outfit," he called back. "I'll tell them to stop, or I'll shoot, simple as that."

"Will that actually work?" Molly asked as they turned a corner.

"I've been in much tighter situations, of course this will work," he said and stopped suddenly. Molly tried stopping, but shrieked as she lost her balance and slipped on her butt, no thanks to her heels. Blushing, she stood back up and looked at Sherlock. He wasn't looking at her, but Molly thought she might have seen a small smile on his face. Molly looked up to where he was looking, it was at the top of the grand staircase. There stood Mrs. Giovanni, calling down to the people.

"IF ANY ONE OF YOU HAS IT, IT WOULD BE IN YOUR BEST INTEREST TO HAND IT OVER RIGHT NOW," she yelled down to the confused audience. Sherlock rolled his eyes. This was one of the worst operations he'd seen put into action before.

"Molly, call the cops. This is hardly even worth my looking into. They've already explained everything, and their plan is horrible. The police should be able to handle it," he said. Molly nodded, whipping out her phone and dialing 999.

"Yes, 999? We've got a situation at the Hitcher... you already know? Wonderful, thank you! Goodbye!" Molly said, clicking the phone off. "They're already on their way." Right after she said that, Sherlock heard sirens approaching and smiled.

"Worst plan ever," he smiled, as Mrs. Giovanni's face turned white and she stopped yelling.

"RUN!" she shrieked to her husband and Clyde, ready to cut the rope holding the chandelier up. They frantically started running, but the sirens grew closer, and the police burst in. Sherlock smiled and leaned against the wall.

"Well, that was more uneventful than I imagined," he said, crossing his arms. Molly watched the police come in and easily catch the three, who were only armed with a gun and knife, but didn't use them. "Have you heard about the Prime Minister? Apparently, his cat just had kittens. All of London is talking about it." The night was the most eventful in her life, the_ most_, and he thought nothing of it. Was the fact she had kissed him uneventful too? Her heart sank deeper. She had only confessed all of this because she thought it was her last moments with him, but she now realised she'd have to live with the consequence that he really didn't care about her.

Molly walked away from Sherlock without a goodbye, and just walked out of the door to the mansion, only hesitating once before picking up their picture from the table. There were screaming sirens and police cars pulling up everywhere, and just running past her. Molly didn't care. She just walked away from the scene until she got close enough to the open road that she could call a cab. She didn't want to think anymore tonight. She just wanted to go home.

* * *

><p>Sherlock went back up the stairs at 221 Baker Street, and looked at the clock. 12:32 AM. John should be back by now. "John?" he called out. "Are you home?"<p>

"In the kitchen," John called out. Sherlock walked in and saw him in pajama pants and bunny slippers. He smirked.

"Nice slippers."

"So how was your 'case'?" he asked, brewing a cup of tea. Sherlock leaned against the counter.

"The case was pretty unexciting. Had the cops take over. I don't doubt you'll see it on the news. No deaths tonight," Sherlock said. "And... Molly kissed me."

John turned around instantly with raised eyebrows and an open mouth. "You're kidding!"

Sherlock shook his head. "We were locked up with another hostage, and I had my pick, so I could easily get us out. Molly panicked, she thought we were going to die, so... she confessed a few things and attacked my face."

John sighed. "That one's definitely pulled out of a romance movie." Sherlock smirked.

"You would know."

John frowned. "It was Sarah's turn to pick out a movie, who was I to say no to her?"

"Of course..." Sherlock said. "Well, I'm going to retire for the night. See you in the morning, John." Sherlock began to walk back to his room, but John called to him.

"Wait," he said, popping his head out of the kitchen. "Sherlock, what are you going to do about Molly?"

"I'll sleep on it." he answered almost instantly. "I'll come up with something." He walked to his room and didn't even bother turning the lights on. He just took off his jacket and shoes and flopped onto his bed. Before his head hit his pillow, Sherlock grabbed his phone out of his jacket. He opened it and started writing a new message, but hesitated for a moment.

Molly's kiss... it was different. Something had changed in him. Was it possible that he might actually like her? He regretfully admitted to himself that he had liked the kiss, it was different from anything he knew. And after all, he was unemployed from any case at the moment. Why not put this time up to experiment? He'd never experimented with love before.

After a moment, he finally typed out his message and hit send.

* * *

><p>Molly had wiped her face clean of any makeup and had already changed into her comforting, cottony pajamas. She smelled like peppermint tea, because that was what she had make as soon as she had gotten home. Pauline had been asleep, so she was as quiet as possible. It wasn't that hard, since she wasn't in a very talkative mood.<p>

She was about to hop into bed when her phone began singing on her nightstand. _YO, I'LL TELL YOU WHAT I WANT, WHAT I REALLY, REALLY WANT. SO TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT WHAT YOU REALLY, REALLY- _Molly raced over to her loud phone and opened the text, hoping she didn't wake up the whole neighborhood.

**Coffee tomorrow, 8:30? -SH**

Molly smiled a little to herself. Was it possible that he might actually like her back? It was at least worth another shot.

**That sounds wonderful :) -MH**

Molly hit send, turned her phone on vibrate, and laid down in her bed, smiling. She had a feeling things might be different from now on. A good kind of different, for sure.

_**THE END.**_

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><p><em><strong>Here comes the lovely boring part, THE CREDITS! :D It's something I do whenever I finish a big or successful story, just to thank everyone!<strong>_

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><p><strong><em>*Gasps for breath* Phew! Thanks a ton to all of you for making this my most subscribed story, EVER! :D Writing this was a treat, and thanks for all the nice reviews that kept me going! Thanks, all of you! <em>**

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**_Aktress._**


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